All Hallows Eve
by fey of the forest
Summary: It's Halloween and a young gang of friends are sat in the crypt deep beneath Camelot for a dare. Telling ghost stories, little do they realise that Camelot is actually haunted...


**Hey. This is a Halloween fic for you all. I'm afraid it's very much historically inaccurate and the young gang are all about ten or eleven years old. I hope you'll enjoy. Please r&r.**

**Disclaimer: unfortunately, I do not own BBC Merlin, nor am I ever likely to.**

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The young Prince stood waiting by the crypt with Merlin for the two girls to appear. Tonight they were to celebrate Halloween in an attempt to cheer up the King's new ward, for she had mentioned that she and her father had enjoyed celebrating this occasion. Her father had recently died in battle and Uther had taken her on as his ward, and Arthur hadn't liked to see this pretty girl look so upset. In fact, no one liked to see her beauty overshadowed by grief, which made this all the more important. Arthur would do anything to make this girl smile, even if it meant going against everything his father had told him.

You see, Uther hated this time of year. All Hallow's Eve was the time when all the sorcerers came together to celebrate. It was the worst day for magic and the King would arrest anyone who even uttered the word, let alone practise or celebrate it. That was why the young friends had to keep these all quiet and why Arthur was so edgy. It wasn't the prospect of staying in the crypt overnight like they had been dared too, it was the fact that he didn't know what his father would do to him if they were caught. He may be the Prince of Camelot but that probably wouldn't stop Uther from throwing him in the stocks for a week. The others would probably suffer worse, what with them not being only heir to the throne and such. Hearing footsteps, the two boys looked up as their hearts stopped for one minutes. Had they been found before it could even begin? No. Morgana and her servant Gwen were here.

Merlin, having been given the task of lighting the torches, did so with a bit of sly magic whilst Arthur fumbled with the keys. Anyone would have thought that he didn't want to do this, but the young Pendragon refused to believe that he was scared of a dark room where the long dead were buried on the evening where the dead were supposed to come back… He wasn't scared. At least that was what he kept telling himself. There was no such thing as ghosts or zombies. Of course there wasn't. They were just stories that adults made up to scare their kids. So why was he half convinced otherwise? Holding a lighted torch in front of him, Arthur noted with some distaste that there were cobwebs literally everywhere and there was a damp musty tang in the air. It wasn't the homeliest of places to say the least, but if this was what they had to do to get a smile on Morgana's face then so be it.

Finding somewhere that wasn't covered in cobwebs to sit, they placed their torches in a neat little pile in the middle of them whilst they sat around them. Blankets were handed out by Gwen who had had the forethought to bring them and the group happily sat there beneath the castle. The flames from the torches cast dark shadows on the walls and gave an eerie glow, whilst in the silence they could hear the sound of scuttling feet of rats and spiders whose territory they were disturbing. Arthur shivered slightly in the cold, but this didn't go unnoticed.

"What's the matter Arthur? Scared?" Morgana teased.

"Me? Never."

"Then why are you shaking?" Merlin asked him, joining in with Morgana.

"It's cold, that's all."

"Yeah right…"

"So what now?" asked Gwen, trying to distract them from taunting Arthur.

"Well, usually me and my father would tell each other ghost stories." the young ward explained. "And I reckon Arthur should go first."

"Very well, if that is your wish." Arthur smiled, determined that he would scare the two girls before the night was out. "Camelot is filled with ghosts, but there is one in particular who is the worst. He came to an untimely end and seeks his revenge to this day. His name was Elphin, and he was one of the people who built this castle, but few of those workers were buried alive like him. He was an ordinary man who led an ordinary life, not breaking any laws or causing trouble. So he was a bit perplexed when his master wished to see him in this here crypt. Talking, it turned out that Elphin had not completed something properly. An argument broke out and Elphin was struck unconscious. When he came round a few minutes later, he was being buried in the very walls he helped to build. He screamed but there came no rescue. To this day you can still hear him as his cries echo around these very walls…" There was silence for a moment and they could only hear the wind howl outside and the bell strike the hour.

"I've heard better." Gwen put in.

"You reckon you can beat that?"

"I think so. My father used to tell me the story of the phantom blacksmith. It was many years ago now, before my father was born, and Camelot castle was all brand new. The town was just springing up outside and the forge was starting up business. Many people came to get their horse's shoed or to get a sword made or a piece of armour repaired. The blacksmith, Alfred, was the greatest in the whole country and so he gained many enemies who were jealous of his work. One day Alfred was requested to make the best suit of armour and so he set to his work. However, a day later Alfred was struck down and thrown into his own furnace by a group of men who were jealous of his work. No one came to the blacksmith's aid as he cried for help and the smithy was closed down. Things were to get a bit strange then, for every night the villagers could hear the clanging of metal from the forge, though they knew that it was deserted. Some said that it was just the sound of a sign hitting another in the night breeze, but others reckon it was the ghost of Alfred, trying to finish the last piece of work he had been requested to make."

"Nah, I still reckon mine's better." Arthur said, stifling a laugh.

"Well you would." Merlin told him. "How about this one? Camelot has many a gargoyle but I have heard some people say that a while back the gargoyles sprang to life. There came no warning and it was on a night rather like this. The moon was high in the sky and cast a peaceful glow on the stone statues. However, as the bell chimed the hour, the grotesque carvings began to move and swooped down on the town. They had a taste for human flesh and the townsfolk screamed as they were caught and eaten. Those who tried to run never made it out of Camelot alive. To this day their ghosts can be seen wandering the streets and the gargoyles may move at any moment."

"How did the gargoyles get turned back to stone?" Gwen asked.

"Well, at sunrise they changed back, having had their fill of human flesh."

"They're all good, but I reckon mine can beat all of yours." Morgana told them with a small smile. The young friends turned to face her, wrapping their blankets tight around their shoulders.

"A few years ago, in a crypt much like this, sat a group of four friends, each having dared the other to spend the night in the depths of the castle. The wind howled in the streets outside and somewhere a bell struck the hour of midnight. The friends had been sat telling each other ghostly tales when they heard it. The dull thud of a body falling to the floor and a soft groaning. It struck terror to their hearts as they had just been talking of zombies. Looking about them as they heard the sound of stone grating against stone, they saw one skeletal hand appearing through a gap in the tombs. More and more hands started to appear before the dead began to rise. The four friends wasted no time in escaping and ran from the crypt to a safe place. Closing the door behind them, the barricaded it but found that it was no use, for they found that the undead were swarming around the castle. The bravest of them tried to fight them off, chopping off the head of a long dead knight, but they just kept on coming. It seemed that they would not get rid of them and as the eldest tried to fight them off, the four friends found themselves surrounded. There was no escape…"

Morgana broke off, intending to pause for effect but instead they all heard the bell chime midnight and the sound of stone scraping. Looking at each other, they slowly turned as one to see a skeletal hand appearing from one of the nearby tombs. Screaming, they turned and ran out of the crypt, only to bump into a whole collection of horrors. There was a headless knight who came towards them, whilst there were ghosts of a blacksmith, a stonemason and a whole range of village people. Having had their nerves put on edge enough from the telling of the ghost stories, they became very scared. Running as fast as they could, they didn't stop until they reached Arthur's room. Barricading the door, they grabbed hold of whatever they could to use as weapons and waited with baited breath…

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Meanwhile, in the corridor near the crypt came the sound of laughter. There had been no ghosts, no rising of the dead. Instead the adults had decided to play a prank on the youngsters. One of the guards had overheard the children talking and had told the king, who in turn had decided that they would get their own back and punish them by scaring them. Having dressed up as ghosts and the undead, they couldn't help but laugh at the frightened expressions on the four youngsters faces. The children had ran down the corridors screaming, Arthur sprinting metres ahead of the others and they hadn't stopped for anything. Uther had never seen his son run so fast, and his friends had not been able to keep up. The King had thought of chasing after them, but it was decided that the children had been scared enough already.

Congratulating themselves, the King couldn't help but smile and knew that it would teach his son a lesson. They couldn't go around disobeying the rules. They were there for a reason after all, and he had to learn that sorcery and magic, even if only words, were dangerous. Turning in for the night, Uther closed his door and locked it. He knew there were no such things as ghosts. They were all but tales. But he was soon to change his opinion as he was tapped on the shoulder by a ghostly figure of a headless knight. Knowing that the man who had dressed up like this had gone and that no one could get into his room, he wondered who it was that was stood before him. Peering into the knight's neck expecting to see the hair of a man, he was surprised when he found that the suit was empty and yet it kept walking. Panicking, the King hid under the bedcovers. It seemed Camelot was haunted after all.


End file.
